Almost Had It All
by C E Nowlin
Summary: AU. Ginny is a reporter for the Daily Prophet and she's been tasked with getting to know Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange. What she learns may just change her views forever. R&R sincerely appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

_**Note:** _This is an AU, and a pretty strong one. Bellatrix did _not_ die (obviously) in the second war, but she _was_ captured and imprisoned for the rest of her life. There year is 2018 and The Daily Prophet is doing a 20 year anniversary piece on the Second Wizarding War. Bellatrix Lestrange is one of the few remaining Death Eaters. She has agreed to tell her side.

* * *

She was a Quidditch correspondent, not a reporter, an interviewer. She shouldn't have ever even been there. This wasn't her job.

"Block 921, Miss. The guards will show you the way to the interrogation rooms."

"Thanks," she muttered, frowning at the dingy brick walls, the small, dark corridors. The entire place smells of dampness and you can almost feel the cold air freezing your bones. She shivered subconsciously and one of the guards chuckles.

"You get used to it, Miss. The dementors make it cold, you know."

"Yeah, so I've heard."

"She's just through there. You've been told all about her I assume?"

"Oh, we're old friends," thin lips scowled, looking anxiously towards the open doorway. Big green eyes notice, for the first time, that there are guards inside the room as well. "I'd rather be alone with her if that's possible."

"Fine, fine, but we'll be just outside the doors here, just in case," he nodded. "She's been pretty calm the past few years, but we don't like to take chances with cases like her. They can snap at any time."

"Thank you, but I'm sure that won't be necessary," she said, sliding past the guard and closing the door behind herself. She's looking down, curls in a wild mass falling every which way. "Mrs. Lestrange," she nodded before sitting down on the opposite side of the table. She's been told why the reporter was visiting come; she knows what they need to hear. Ginny watched her closely, allowing her to begin whenever she was ready.

"It is no small feat," she begins, "to live as I have for the past thirty years." Her voice is nothing like the woman across the table seems to remember. It's no longer the small and shrill yet determined cries of a warrior, but the meek and broken sound of a captive. A rather pitiful smile flicks quickly across her face as she lifts her head finally.

The audible gasp from Ginny's lips was laced in shock. Even after nearly fifteen years, she'd hardly changed at all. Her eyes were still the same piercing green, her cheekbones still high and sharp. She might be attractive were it not for the years of struggle she carried on her shoulders.

"Please, relax, my dear," she laughed, her smirk returning and Ginny couldn't help but wonder what she had up her sleeve. "I've nothing left, Miss Weasley; you're quite safe in my company."

My pulse quickens, the breath leaves my lungs. She remembers me. "It's Potter now, actually. But I couldn't expect you to know that."

"Oh! Well, congratulations Ginny, dear. I apologize; my invitation must have been misplaced in the post." She hadn't changed at all; her sarcasm and satire still flowed freely even after all these years.

"And if you don't mind my asking, how is _your_ husband, Mrs. Lestrange?" Ginny asked bitterly, scribbling the date down on her notepad. She looked up when Bellatrix didn't respond, dropping the pen with spite. Something in the depths of Bella's eyes makes her wish she hadn't asked.

"He's dead, Ginevra." Her voice was dead as well, completely empty, as if she couldn't have cared less, but her eyes told a different story entirely.

"Sorry for your loss," she murmured, the empty words falling heavily upon hurt ears.

"Don't patronize me, stupid girl. Who are you to judge me? You know nothing about my life."

"I know enough, Mrs. Lestrange, I know enough."

She scoffed, looking over Ginny's shoulder at a spot on the wall. She laughed darkly for a split second before their eyes meet again. "You don't know _anything_."

"Then tell me, Bellatrix. Tell me what I need to know."

"Why? So you can write about this in your silly little paper? So that the world can see how the crazies in Azkaban truly live?" she snapped.

"I only want to know you. I want to know all about you, that's why I'm here."

She fell silent, staring at Ginny for a long time before she finally speaks. "I met him when I was six years old."

"Voldemort?" Ginny asked, shocked and disgusted. The man was sick but she'd never imagined that he'd prey on such young and impressionable children.

"No," she shook her head, her heavy lidded eyes closing, "My husband."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hand on the small of the back, Rodolphus. Mr. Malfoy, wipe that smirk off of your face before I wipe it off for you. Don't you cut your eyes at me like that, boy!" the tiny, shrill voice chastised.

Mrs. Leoletta Lytle's School of Preparatory Skills for Young Ladies and Gentlemen was a highly esteemed institution, taking in only charges from the noblest of the pureblood families. She taught all of the children to be wonderful citizens with respectable manners and morals.

Mrs. Lytle prided herself on her reputation; nearly every student she'd ever taken on had been chosen as a Prefect once they were in school. Parents were quick to send their children to a school that promised to instill proper values in their future heirs and heiresses.

"Miss Black, do participate, dear. It'll do you no good to be off sitting in the corner. Sulking, tsk tsk, my dear, tsk tsk," Mrs. Lytle scolded, waving her fan dramatically as she turned away to continue helping the other students.

"Bella, come on, it's fun!" Andromeda smiled from where she was dancing with Rabastan Lestrange.

Bella sighed, crossing her arms and slouching down further onto the bench. She didn't want to dance. She didn't want to be in this class. She didn't know why she needed to attend any sort of finishing school. Bella had fine enough manners. She'd be off to Hogwarts in a matter of weeks anyway.

"Bella?" Rodolphus asked, walking over to her. He had ruddy cheeks and an untamed mess of dark hair. His eyes were dark, but they had a glow to them. Rod's face wasn't nearly as round as his younger brother's. He looked much older with a distinct jaw line and high cheek bones.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, hopping up onto the bench next to her.

"Lestrange, get out onto this dancefloor this instant! And bring Miss Black with you! I assured your parents I'd have you dancing a proper foxtrot by the end of the week and I intend to do just that!"

"Roddy, I don't want to dance. Especially not that horrible Crabbe," Bella groaned, gesturing over to where Crabbe, her assigned partner, stood laughing at a couple that was tripping over each other's feet.

"Well, what about with me?"

Her cheeks flushed as she considered it. "Okay," Bella nodded.

* * *

Bellatrix Black finally stepped up to the stool, anxiously awaiting the sorting she'd heard so much about. Her hair fell in long, dark ringlets down her back. She's got a gap from a lost tooth and a skinned knee that just barely shows at the hem of her skirt.

To every onlooker she's another eleven year old child, excited for her first year of school. Her blood, her cunning nature, and perfect mix of both wit and naivety land her a spot at the Slytherin tables and a welcoming applause. She bounded down the steps, finding an empty seat near the middle of the row. A few minutes later, a tired looking boy sat down across from her.

"Roddy!" Bella smiled. "I just knew you'd make it into Slytherin, too!"

"Don't call me that, Bella!" Rod flushed, looking around to make sure no one had heard. "You can't call me that here."

"Why not?" she asked, not really understanding why he'd suddenly grown so opposed to the nickname.

"Because I said so!" he snapped. Bella frowned and he almost immediately felt guilty. "Just don't, okay, Bells?"

Her eyes were glued to the table, her mind working ceaselessly to find the source of his annoyance. She sighed, nodding after awhile. "Yeah.. okay."

* * *

"He hated that all the teachers loved me," Bella smirked. "It was true, they did. Especially Slughorn. The man adored me. But most of them never really cared much for Rodolphus and it drove him up the wall. He was always asking me to write his essays and get him excused for classes. But I think what caught his attention was that I was so much better at Quidditch than any of the guys were."

She smiled and looked over toward the small, dark window as if it were the most beautiful view she'd ever pictured. You'd never know that she was staring into pitch black night sky if you happened to be looking at her face. "He didn't actually let me on the team until much later though. It was our seventh year, and he was captain."

* * *

"Alright, Mulciber, watch it or you can sit the bench and I'll put Avery in!" Rod yelled across the pitch as a bludger very narrowly missed Bella's head.

"You can't play favorites, Lestrange! This is why girls aren't supposed to play Quidditch! They're too fragile," Mulciber yelled back, laughing at the thought of Bella being fragile in any way whatsoever. "You should keep your bird where she belongs, Rod, and that's _not_ on a broom!"

The laughter of a few of the other guys egging him on, Mulciber pressed his luck again. "Hey, you know, I can think of something else long and hard she could –" A bludger from the left hit Mulciber square in the ear, sending him toppling onto the grass about ten feet below. Rod looked over and saw Bella smirking with her beater's bat in hand.

"That's why she's on the team, smartass," Rod grinned, landing a few seconds later and pulling Mulciber to his feet. "Someone get him some ice," he laughed and one of the younger players ran off towards the changing rooms immediately. Mulciber groaned as he wobbled over to the bench and sat down, holding his head.

"Avery, you're in, let's go."

"No way, man. I'm not getting a concussion because of your crazy ass girlfriend," Avery said, waving his hands and backing away. "Hell no."

Rod sighed as Bella landed next to him, glaring dangerously at Avery. "Listen here, git. She's a great Quidditch player, one of the best beater's the school's seen in a century and you're all damn lucky she's on the team. If you can't deal with it, I can replace you all in two weeks time, no skin off my back." He stared each of the boys down, most of them looking plenty intimidated by the six foot four chaser's words.

"So. Anybody want to back out now?" Rod paused, glancing at the group. "No? Then Avery, grab a bat and get your ass out there."

"Nice hit, Bells," Rod smiled at her as the rest of the team began to talk again, flying off to their own positions. She smiled and flew off quickly, laughing when she saw Mulciber cringe each time the sound of the bat making contact with the bludger echoed through the empty arena.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, why Rod, Mrs. Lestrange?" Ginny asked, underlining something in her notes before she looked up again. "I just mean, was there any reason in particular that you married him?"

"Well, technically I married Rodolphus because, on paper, we were absolutely perfect for each other. He knew everything about me and it didn't scare him off," she almost smiled before growing serious again. "We had similar.. career goals, if you will. Marrying Rod was ultimately a business deal. But that's not how it started," she smiled. "Ah, now I've piqued your interest," Bella laughed.

* * *

She'd begged, pleaded, threatened. She'd tried everything she could imagine to convince her parents that she needed to stay home. But, to her dismay, she was being dragged off to the lake house for another grande summer with the Black family. Which, on it's own, would never be a problem. The problem, you see, was that they would also be joined by the Rosier and Lestrange families which meant seeing Rodolphus, her (as of eighteen hours ago) betrothed.

The dinner had truthfully been meant for Andromeda, a celebration of her impressive OWL scores. But Cygnus had other plans in mind. Standing, mid desert, he raised a glass high in the air, a proud grin on his face as he announced for the first time the betrothal of his eldest daughter to Rodolphus Lestrange.

Bella had choked on her wine, spilling it all down her front and sending herself into a fit of coughing that only made her cheeks burn even more scarlet. Rodolphus had been cutting his chicken, and in shock, nearly cut off his entire finger. He wore the scar proudly in his later years, a loving reminder of the night that truly changed his life.

But even in all the excitement, there was still a fear. They'd been seeing each other quietly - so as to not stir their parents up - for months. They were mad for each other, but hearing your parents' decree of engagement over chicken a la king would be shocking to anyone.

Bella pouted, sitting in the corner of the living area, only because her mother simply refused to allow her to leave. She hated them. How could they keep this from her for so long? What if it hadn't been Rodolphus? How dare they. She sulked about, listening vaguely but mostly staring at the clock and praying that six o clock stayed away for as long as possible. When, alas, it didn't, she climbed the stairs to her room.

Never before had she particularly disliked the room. But now, slamming the door behind her, it was possibly the most grotesque thing she could have imagined. She kicked her trunk, satisfied for the moment with the defeated _thump_. Bella climbed into her bed, pulling the heavy quilt over her head. She hadn't let herself cry. It wasn't so bad, after all. Rodolphus was probably the only pureblood boy her age that she'd have ever considered as a husband anyway. But this was too much. Her parents had meddled with their relationship. They couldn't be happy and reckless like they used to, like they loved to be; now they had impending marriage hanging above them. Now it would feel as though they had no choice. Stupid, cliche teenage emotions that told her to stay as far away from Rodolphus as possible. But she knew, both in her heart and in her mind, that it would never work; her parents would be furious, her heart wouldn't survive the separation.

The knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin. She'd dozed off, her thoughts dragging her under and drowning her in sleep. At some point her heavy heart had flooded her eyes, tears staining her cheeks. She wiped them quickly, sitting up slightly. The doorknob turned, a sliver of light gleaming on the opposite wall as he cracked the door.

"..Bella?"

She felt her heart drop to her stomach, sit there and twist into knots. He closed the door quietly, crossing towards the bed in the near-dark. She watched him, her nervousness vanishing with the half-smile that flashed across his face for only a second. Bella shook her head, chuckling inwardly. Of course it was Rodolphus. It had always been Rod; it would always be Rod. That their parents could have predicted anything of this nature was an impossible thought to entertain.

She scooted back on the small twin bed, making room for him. He laid down next to her and she settled instantly and instinctively into his arms. He held her possessively, pressing his lips to her forehead the way he only ever did when they were alone. Her Rodolphus and the Rodolphus the world knew were two completely different people at times, one of them just as entrancing as the other. "You've been crying," he noted. "I hate it when you cry." She knew it was because she so rarely allowed herself to break in such a human way. She never let herself feel the shame that came with admitting defeat. Because when at last she did break, it was because it was all but killing her to hold it in. Because when Bellatrix Black cried, she was _hurt_, deeply.

"I know," she whispered, breathing in the smell of him, the exact way amortentia had smelled since the first time she'd ever smelled it. Silence, comfortable silence. In the empty, quiet air between them you could feel the static of their minds racing with words they wouldn't say, questions they wouldn't ask. For two minutes they were allowed silence, moments to reflect on their new world. It didn't change anything. They'd rule as they always had, the king and queen of all they saw and all they touched. It would live an unspoken secret between them, a fact no one outside of their families knew. And though - for now - she would deny it to the ends of the earth, when the time came, she would fulfill her duty to her family and he to his, happily.

Her head was filled with images of her future, thoughts that she would never admit to. The children of a lesser god, perhaps, but they would be great; caught between heaven and hell where they would rule beautifully and mercilessly until some demon would drag them apart. Then, and only then, would she leave his side.

Their seventh year was a different animal entirely. It took no time at all for word of the betrothal to become common knowledge. It was both invigorating and infuriating. The snide looks Bella would get from other girls, the jealous fifth years that would splinch themselves trying to get to Rodolphus glared at her in the halls, in class, in the common room. Boys gave Rod a hard time, asking if he knew what he was getting into, marrying a Black. And he laughed along with them, a small flame of fury burning as they mocked his fiancee. But they were happy. Finally.

She was running late, but of course, you could never trust a woman to be on time. Hell, when it came to Bella, the only thing you could trust her to be was late. And overbearing, and well, a fair bit loud. And sometimes if the conditions were right, she was downright intolerable. But mostly, she was late. And Rod's greatest talent was pointing it out. Every single time.

"You're late."

"How very perceptive, darling. Now tell me how many fingers I'm holding up," Bella snarled patronizingly while making a hand gesture that a fine lady of her status ought to have refrain from.

"Classy."

"Thanks," she said, dropping her bag onto the table and pulling out her Potions book.

"Ahh! Miss Black, thank you for finally joining us!" Professor Slughorn beamed as he bustled over to greet the latecomer. "A bit tardy, but no matter. You're here now and that's what counts. I'm sure Mr. Lestrange will fill you in on today's assignment." The rotund man sauntered off to the back of the room where two girls were fighting over a batch of Amortentia. Bella chuckled as she heard one of the girls complain that she deserved a chance with Rod more than the other did. Rod merely scowled and pushed the book opened to the recipe towards her.

"So, _Mr. Lestrange,_" Bella grinned, "Care to catch me up?"

"Well, _Miss Black_," Rod replied, elbowing her and sticking his tongue out in such a childish way that it made Bellatrix roll her eyes, "Let's see how handy you are at a Scintillation Solution."

"Kid stuff," she smirked. "Pass me three alihotsy leaves and…" she paused to confirm the ingredients, "A jabberknoll feather."

Rod responded in quiet obedience, handing the feather over, but fumbling through several different types of leaves. "Um.. these?" he asked, frowning slightly as he held out his hand to her.

"No, love. Those over there," Bella laughed, pointing to another set of leaves.

"That was my next choice," he muttered, giving her the leaves with a slight pout.

Bella went to work, silently finishing the potion and waving Slughorn over. "Excellent work, you two! I dare say, Miss Black, you'd make an excellent Potions teacher yourself one day. Of course, that may require several years of advanced study, an internship – which I'd be happy to offer you, of course, my dear! – and you'd have to wait in the wings, perhaps an assistant, until I retired but I'm sure - "

"Professor, that sounds lovely, but I'm really not looking for a teaching position—"

"Of course you aren't dear! Of course not," Professor Slughorn grinned, patting her shoulder enthusiastically. "Just keep it in mind, don't rule anything out yet!" He wandered away, paying no mind to Rodolphus at all as he kept checking in on the other N.E.W.T. Potions students.

"Best Potions partner I've ever had," Rod smiled, winking at Bella before gathering his things and standing.

"You're a bit biased, but I appreciate the thought," Bella rolled her eyes, allowing Rod to help her up. She slipped her thin hand into his and together they left the classroom.

Thirty minutes later, down the hall and around the corner from the Potions classroom, Bellatrix Black stumbled out from a broom cupboard looking thoroughly disheveled as she smoothed out her skirt and ran her fingers through her hair. Moments later, Rodolphus Lestrange followed, slipping his arm around her waist and shoving his free hand in his pocket.

They rounded the corner, heading for the Great Hall. It was packed with students, many of them already eating. The Slytherin table was nearly full, and Bella frowned when she realized they had very little choice but to sit near Andromeda.

"You two certainly look…" Andromeda pursed her lips, staring at Rod and Bella as they sat down across the table from her, "Giddy."

"Oh shut it, Andy," Bella sighed.

"Trollop."

"Prude."

"Slag."

"Snob."

"Slut."

"Virgin."

Andromeda flushed, cutting her eyes at Bella before she stood up with a huff and stomped back towards the common room.

"And for the second time today, I say to you, my love: classy," Rod said, trying his best not to laugh at the siblings' exchange.

"Just shut up and pass the pumpkin juice."


	4. Chapter 4

"So you and Andromeda didn't get on very well at all?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it was naïve of her, but she'd always believed that the pureblood families had been close to one another. And, in her experience, the bond of siblings was absolutely invaluable.

"When we were children, we were inseparable. It was always Andy and Rodolphus and I in the summers; learning to fly, swimming, playing in the garden." Bella's eyes were distant, and Ginny almost didn't trust herself whenever she saw tears rimming the green orbs. "She was my dearest friend. I loved Andromeda more than anyone else in the world."

"What I regret the most is losing Andromeda," Bellatrix said, her voice empty and toneless. "I blame myself for her. I drove her away, I know I did." She was talking more to herself now than to Ginny.

"We were only two years apart, and Cissy was four years younger than her. But everything changed after she found out I was to join the ranks," she shook her head. "She hated me for it, but tried to understand. We fought often, and it drew a thick line between us. That was my seventh year. By then, she'd given up on talking me out of my commitment, and she resented me.

"And then she met him, that mudblood. She was Sirius' favorite after that. I tried my best to point her in the right direction. I drove her right into his arms and away from my family. No sooner that the ink was dry on the marriage certificate was she blasted off the family tree; disowned by her entire family."

"Visitin' hours are over, Miss," the guard of cell block 921 informed them, cracking the door slightly. "You can come back tomorrow."

"Thank you," Ginny nodded, "I'll be out in just a moment. I'd like a moment to say goodbye, if you don't mind."

The burly guard shrugged, pulling the door closed again. She looked back across the table and Mrs. Lestrange was, once again, absorbed with the awful sky out the small, dark window. "I'll be here again tomorrow, Mrs. Lestrange," she said quietly, following her gaze. A small bird of some sort was sitting on the outer edge of the windowsill twittering away, but the sound was more dirge than melody.

"Of course you will. You haven't gotten your story yet," her eyes met Ginny's, "But I've got plenty more to tell Ginevra." Bellatrix nodded in dismissal, slouching down in her chair.

Ginny rose, gathering my things and making my way toward the door. The sounds of cuffs locking and chains dragging stabbed at her ears and it took all the self control she could muster to keep from turning back toward the interrogation room.

"Easy now, Mrs. Lestrange, you ought to be used to this by now," one of the guards said, almost mockingly. Ginny glanced over my shoulder, but instantly regretted it, quickening her pace and staring straight ahead as she made my way down the frigid hallway.

* * *

"She's changed," Ginny said, pulling the brush through her hair. "Something about her is different."

"She's still the same person, Ginny," Harry sighed, shaking his head and leaning against the doorframe. "She's a vindictive, cold, murderer and she'll always be that way. You can't let her fool you." Ginny watched his reflection in the mirror as he pulled his glasses from his face, cleaning the lenses with his shirt.

"You've got a grudge against her, Harry. It's only obvious that you'll feel differently," she set the brush down on the bathroom counter, turning to face him. "She killed Sirius and I don't expect you to forget that."

He closed the distance between them, his arms closing around me. Harry held her there for a moment, silently breathing herin. "She tried to kill you," he said, voice lower than a whisper as he kissed the girl's forehead.

She fell asleep that night trying to block the memory of Bella's face out of her mind. She felt guilty for almost feeling as though she could trust her now that she better understood Harry's reasons for disliking her even still. It was so easy to be comfortable around her now that she wasn't the monster Ginny seemed to remember. She was reduced to human form, now, no better than anyone and it was easy to no longer be intimidated.

Ginny woke up early the next morning, hoping to slip out before Harry or the kids woke up. No such luck. Lily was downstairs already, nose stuck in a book as usual. "Mum?" she asked, looking up. "Where are you going?"

"Work, Lils," she said, pulling on her coat. "I ought to be home early. Make sure your brothers don't give your dad a hard time, okay?"

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, pulling the book back up to her face and diving in again. Ginny craned her neck to see the title. She smiled, realizing it was one of the old spellbooks Hermione had dropped by for James.

"Don't study too hard, now. You're supposed to be enjoying your break!" She laughed, opening the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** It is my pleasure to announce that you get to meet Evan in this chapter! He's one of my favorite characters that I've ever written. My Evan is very much a chauvinistic ass, but he has a good heart when it comes to taking care of his family, particularly Bella. I will admit that my Evan is largely drawn from _Gossip Girl's_ Chuck Bass. So, with that, I hope you enjoy chapter 5. And as always, rates and reviews are incredibly encouraging and are sincerely appreciated! xo C.

* * *

The trek back to the interrogation room was not quite as ceremonious as last time. Bella was already seated. Ginny noticed immediately that she'd taken time to do her hair.

"You look nice, Mrs. Lestrange," she commented, setting up her notepad and quill.

"I felt that, to truly tell the next chapter of my life I needed to feel as I did then. When I was happy with who I was, and proud to be me," she deadpanned, smiling only slightly.

"Well then, by all means," Ginny nodded, "Do tell."

"We were betrothed that summer, of course, but we weren't actually engaged until that winter.."

* * *

The winter holidays brought with it a blanket of white that came clear up to the windowsills, rendering the roads simply unnavigable. The house was warm and cozy - and full. The snow had settled with Rodolphus, and Evan and Adelaide Rosier visiting, and so they had become the Black's houseguests for a few days.

Druella's brother was a frighteningly cold man who never spoke except to complain and only drank malt liquor. He always looked as though he hadn't slept in three weeks, dark circles under his eyes and a perpetual two-day stubble. But his wife was a vision of beauty. She floated on a cloud of perfumed entitlement, floor-length gowns that cost more than a modest home kissing the hardwood wherever she walked. And their children, thank the gods, had split the middle.

Adelaide had her mother's beauty and her father's façade. She was a sweet girl, underneath it all, but her exterior was hard and frigid. She resented her older brother for his protective nature, and - like most fourteen year olds - spent much of her time away from her family.

Evan was Bella's sidekick. He was a year younger than her but it had never made any difference. In fact, in many respects, he may as well have been the elder of the pair. Evan was her caregiver in many ways. He'd pulled her drunken form away from the edge more times than either of them cared to remember.

But in all of that, the trio had become inseparable.

They'd knicked a bottle from the cabinet and settled into the parlor; Evan sprawled on his back in the middle of the floor, Bella curled in Rodolphus' lap on the sofa. They'd been laughing for hours, running through the same stories they'd all heard and told a hundred times. Evan's eyes were glazed and he was humming something quietly to himself. A few moments later, he drifted off to sleep.

It was quiet for a long time; warm, comfortable silence wrapping itself like a blanket around Bella and Rod. He kissed her neck, soft lips pressing gently to her pulse point. He couldn't get enough of her: the way she smelled, the way she fit against him so perfectly, the way her warmth made him feel invincible. He brushed the hair off of her shoulder, kissing her just under her ear. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she almost laughed, turning to face him. She turned around, straddling him on the couch. His eyes reflected the firelight and she could have stayed right there forever. He watched her, taking her in. She was seventeen and she wore it well. Everything about her exuded life. Her eyes were bright and alive; long, tan limbs stretched and wrapped around his neck like they'd been made for that very purpose. Her lips fell gently in a perfect cupid's bow, the last few freckles from a summer long past that still hadn't faded graced her nose and cheeks. He looked at her the way she'd always wanted to be looked at, like she was a force of nature and he knew that she was a storm - beautiful and dangerous.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, totally engulfed in her. She was the center of him, the point on the map he returned to always. He was her anchor, holding her in place. It was strange because he changed for her; the man that no woman could own would all but kiss her feet, realizing his prize and relishing in it. The way she had him wrapped around her finger and the way he didn't seem to notice or mind. The way they magnetically moved toward each other in a room. It was the strangest kind of love.

She tilted her head slightly, a hint of confusion mingling with curiosity playing on her lips. "Of course."

His hands that had been resting on her hips moved up, holding her face gently. His thumb caressed her cheek idly, eyes trained on hers. He pressed his lips to hers softly, relishing in the smile he could feel forming on her own lips. "I love you," he murmured, consumed by her presence.

She froze, her face unreadable. It had always gone without saying, and with that, it had never been spoken. The words were foreign. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd heard those three words assembled together in her lifetime. The only people that had ever told her they'd loved her had been her father and her cousin. Her parents showed little to no affection.

And in the few seconds it took for her to string her thoughts together she could see his world dissolve in his eyes. He knew for certain that he'd said something wrong, that he should have kept quiet. Just as he began to speak, to apologize, she hushed him with another kiss. "I love you too," she said, and she'd never been more certain of anything in her life.

He came back to life in her arms. He had thought that he'd loved her before, that he truly appreciated her. And now, in a mutual commitment of honor, he knew he'd been so wrong. He saw her differently now than he had even a minute before. She was his in a way that she hadn't been until then. And the knot in his stomach had swelled to his chest, pushing out a broad smile on his lips. "I have something for you."

Rod leaned over, reaching for his jacket that had been slung over the arm of the couch. He fished into the pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know this is simple, but I can't.." his eyebrows knit together in frustration, the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. "I can't let our parents do this. Not when it should be our choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't let people think we're like everyone else. I can't let them believe that our parents are the only reason we're getting married," he said, opening the box. "I want them to know that we chose each other. I want them to know we're getting married because we want to. So.. will you marry me, Bella?"

Evan groaned on the floor, sitting up groggily. "You guys are disgusting and I adore you," he hiccuped, sliding over to prop up against the sofa. "Come on, be a lady. Say yes to the man before he dies, Bellatrix."

She laughed, looking back to him, "Of course, I will."


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: **Updates have been somewhat steady because I've had a lot of free time the past two days. I'm giving you a lot now so that hopefully when school gets rough again, you won't hate me so much.. I hope you enjoy! Please R&R! xo C.

* * *

"Can you tell me a little more about the rest of your family, Mrs. Lestrange?" Ginny asked, jotting something quickly in her notepad before she looked back to Bellatrix. "You mentioned Evan Rosier, maybe you could start there?"

"Oh, my Evan.." she said, and you could almost hear the memories in her voice. Ginny remembered reading about Evan Rosier's death in the Prophet. He'd been killed in the flurry of spells the night that the Order had transported Harry to the Burrow. "He was my dearest friend."

"Even though you were older than him?"

"Oh, yes," she all but laughed. "It never mattered. In many ways, he was more mature than I was anyway. His father was a terrible man. I hated my uncle. He was so hard with Evan." Bella's eyes shone briefly with an anger that even she had forgotten. "My cousin wasn't perfect, but he had a good heart, Ginny."

A chill came over her with the mention of her name. Bellatrix Lestrange, known murderer, torturer, Death Eater, and all around, one of the most infamous and heinous offenders in the history of the wizarding world was sitting across the table from her, arguing for her cousin's good name. The irony of it all was not lost on her at all, and the vigor with which Bella seemed to be petitioning was unsettling and surprising.

"Evan would show up at my bedroom window in the summers, covered in blood, bruises. I was the only shelter he knew." She raised a hand to her forehead, pausing a moment and taking a few deep breaths. A minute passed in silence before Bella raised her head. Tears rimmed her big, green eyes. "Forgive me, dear. I haven't spoken of Evan in years."

"You're fine, Mrs. Lestrange," Ginny said, finding her voice to be surprisingly even. "Do you want to talk about him?" She seemed to stare straight through Ginny, her lip quivering just a touch.

"There's so much you have yet to learn, Miss Wea- Potter," she corrected herself.

"I want to know, Bellatrix. Anything that you want to share," she nodded. "I want to hear what you have to say. I want to hear your side."

"Why?" she snapped suddenly, her voice alive and strong. The tears were gone and the fragile woman had been replaced by a warrior. "Why do you want to know? Why do you care? I've been rotting away in this hell for thirty years and no one's ever bothered to ask for my story. Why now?"

Ginny froze, the recoil causing her to falter ever so slightly. "I-" she stammered. She could rattle off the facts of the matter - the story at hand, the fast-approaching deadline, the angry editor that wanted to know why it was taking so long to get a few quotes from a 'bat-shit crazy inmate'. But for what? It wouldn't matter, and truth be told, those reasons had little to nothing to do with why Ginny had returned to Azkaban. "I care about what you have to say," she said finally.

"I'm sure you do, Ginevra," Bella sneered, rolling her eyes.

"I had my preconceived notions when I came here, Mrs. Lestrange," Ginny said softly. "And I will admit, I wasn't thrilled when I received this assignment. But I have truly enjoyed learning about you. And whatever you want to tell me, I will be more than happy to listen."

Bellatrix eyed her with visible skepticism. But slowly the front fell. She relaxed again, her eyes softening. "There's still many things that you must know before I can discuss my family."

"Like what?"

"You've yet to ask me the obvious question, dear," she chuckled to herself. "And I have little doubt that it's that little fact that you came here after. You want to know how I became who I am - or was, rather. You want to know how old I was," she smirked, pulling her sleeve up, "when I got this."

Ginny's stomach knotted itself immediately, the black Mark on Bellatrix's forearm staring back at her. She half expected to see it come to life, vivid memories of the signal from You-Know-Who flashing before her suddenly. A part of her was so afraid that she had to force herself to stay seated.

"I was sixteen when I was promised," she began. "Sixteen. I was a child."

"Was it your choice?" Ginny almost gasped. She couldn't rightly believe it. She'd thought that the early recruitment of Death Eaters had been something that had only happened in the second war, that children like Draco Malfoy were the rare exception.

"That's hard to say," she said, her brow knitting slightly. "I was a brilliant child - and I don't say that to brag, Ginny; I was. I was talented and strong. But mostly, my younger self, oh, she was ruthless. And it didn't take long for that word to spread through our circles."

"Circles?"

"You know, social circles," she explained as Ginny nodded. "It was a new age, when I was in school. Tom Riddle - as I knew him then - was a charming young man. He was eight or nine years older, I would say." She bit her lip for a moment, thoughtful eyes scanning the tabletop. "I can remember being very intrigued by him. At a young age, fourteen, maybe fifteen, I remember trying to understand how someone not much older than I was could command the respect of people my father's age. And I tried to understand why they listened to him, and why they didn't cast him off as a youngster or a foolish child. And truth be told, Ginevra, I never did truly understand it.

"But he had a power that I envied, even then. And with that power, he'd all but commanded that his initial followers - which included my father, my uncle, and my father-in-law - bring their son to the cause. And in my father's case, he had none. I volunteered," she said, her eyes darting up suddenly, meeting Ginny's with purpose. "And when the time came, I went as a lamb to slaughter."

"When I met him the first time, I saw it in his eyes. He knew, Ginny. He knew about me. He took my hand, kissed it like a true gentleman. I remember my father's face losing it's color that night. It was my cotillion and he wanted to dance with me," she seemed to be deep in thought now as she recalled the night, painting the room with her memory.

"I was flattered and - being young and naïve - I relished in the way that Rodolphus looked fit to be tied; positively green with envy. And as Tom returned me, I can remember my father stepping half in front of me. And then, I will never forget it, Tom intervened. He grabbed my father by the wrist, his words becoming the kind of hiss that I'd heard people talk about before. They were satin and ragged iron all at once, beautiful but cutting. He told my father that I was not to be kept hidden. But Tom was nothing if not a gentlemen, even then. He refused to allow me to join until I had finished my schooling."

"I have to ask.." Ginny began, still reeling slightly from the onset on new information. "Were you and-"

"I didn't have anything but admiration for the man, Ginevra," she shook her head. "I loved his power, I loved the way he manipulated people and got whatever he wanted. But I never loved Tom. He.. he had a fascination with me."

"A fascination?" Ginny asked, quirking an eyebrow. She looked up from her notes, suddenly interested. "What do you mean?"

"He was never very subtle. I was beautiful when I was young," she laughed. "He was drawn to me and I basked in it. He made a point to help me, to train me. He taught me much of what I know."

"How did he feel about your relationship with Rodolphus?"

"Oh, now there's an interesting story," Bella shook her head. "I don't know why we thought we could hide it, or what made us believe that he didn't already know. But when the truth came out.. Oh, I remember that night vividly.."

* * *

A pearl strewn, lace trimmed moment saved forever in the memories of anyone and everyone remotely associated with the pureblood aristocracy, the Lestrange wedding was debatably the most lavish in years. Flawless in execution and delightfully charming, it was a soiree that would not soon be forgotten.

But, like everything else in life, it has an ending. And when the last drop of champagne settled and the last chord from the violin echoed through an empty hall, all that was left was a mess and a new hierarchy. The grandeur evaporated into the air and the lights dimmed. And miles away, in a quiet little house on the pristine beaches of Italy, the new Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange celebrated.

An hour or so had passed anticipation lacing the rim of their champagne glasses. She sat perched on the couch, still in her extravagance of a dress. She'd removed the pins from her hair, letting it fall freely in gently tousled ringlets around her slightly flushed face. And his jacket and tie had long since been discarded, barefoot in the kitchen as he poured another glass.

As he walked back into the living room, she rose from the couch, crossing to meet him. White train following as she took his glass from him and set it aside, her arms wound around his neck, her hands resting instinctively around her waist. "You look uncomfortable, El," he whispered, pressing his lips against her neck. "Let's get you out of that dress."

He bent, scooping her off of the ground and into his arms. He pushed through the door to the bedroom, setting her on her feet again. With an aching slowness Rod brushed her hair away, pressing his lips to her shoulder as his fingers went smoothly and nimbly over the ribbon through the corset. Her lips fell open, his smirk growing as she sighed with content.

Loosening the laces, the dress fell to the floor. She turned, stepping out of the mound of white toile and lace. Bella pressed toward him, her fingers working down the buttons of his shirt. His fingers traced over her bare skin, fire igniting with each touch. She leaned in, her lips mere millimeters from his.

Faster than lightening and sharper than a razorblade, the stinging pain snatched them apart. "Fuck," she hissed, almost doubling over in pain as he groaned, pacing with deep breaths to dull the ache. The black lines grew darker, the fire alive beneath her skin. She looked up, meeting his eyes. "No," she shook her head.

"We've got to go."

Somewhere deep within the forest of Avon they waited. They waited for the burning to stop; they waited for others to come and none did; they waited for the silence to reveal something of why they alone had been called out.

A loud crack echoed through the clearing, sending a chill through their bones. They watched as the tall, thin figure cast a charm over the area so that no sound would escape. A shared nervous glance between the two of them before the man spoke. "I'd say that I'm sorry to interrupt the honeymoon," the voice called, pulling his hood down. "But I'm not."

The silence was deafening, neither of them knowing what to say now that they knew for sure that it was no coincidence that they alone had been chosen tonight. Bella's mind raced. She didn't really know what to expect. She'd taken the mark, promised her life, but her father's hand had kept her safe thus far. Now, without the shield of Hogwarts, she didn't know how well she'd stand on her own.

"I am, however, regretful that I did not attend the festivities," Tom all but smirked, stepping slowly towards them. "I hear it was quite the party." He paused in front of Bella, his hand cupping her face. "And I'm sure you were the picture of perfection, sweet Bellatrix." He ran his thumb over her cheek before dropping his hand. "Good to see you again, Rodolphus." Rodolphus' jaw clenched. Every fiber of his being knew that whatever reason had dragged them from their home tonight, it was anything but orthodox.

"But you see, I am troubled," Tom said, turning away from them and distancing himself. "When you so boldly stepped forward, dear Bella, I was more than happy to receive you into our ranks. However, you left out one small detail."

"We didn't know, then, my lord," she said, her voice soft but steady.

"Silence," he snapped before quickly regaining his cool composure. "And when your fathers came to me, seeking my approval of your matrimony – before it was formally announced, of course – I had quite the decision to make." Tom turned back to them, eyes gleaming with mystery. "I could refuse, possibly ruining both of your families and likely ruining sweet Bella's chances of ever marrying a man worthy her statute, or I could agree and gain two of the most promising young minds I've yet to cross."

There was another deafening silence that even the cloak of darkness couldn't help. Bella maintained a steady façade while Rodolphus grew increasingly troubled, anxiety beginning to show in his eyes and demeanor.

"What I hadn't anticipated was the intensity of your relationship," he almost spat. It sounded like an insult from his lips. He crossed toward Bella again, a thin hand brushing down the side of her face, trailing over her shoulder. "When I agreed to the arrangement, I hardly thought I would be dealing with, well, this. Look at you," he laughed, "Even now, my son. Your chest puffed in anger, your eyes aflame. That's no way to win a war."

His hand on her shoulder flashed up, twisting in Bella's hair and snatching it back. Rodolphus' frame instinctively lurched forward, stopping himself a foot short, his fists balled tightly. Tom chuckled, releasing Bella from his grip. "Like I said before," he smirked. "Can't be having loyalty issues, can we?"

"Our loyalty is to you, my lord," Rodolphus shook his head. "There is no question of that."

"Oh, but there is." Tom circled around them, seeming to almost float around them. "I have noticed the shift, don't think I haven't. I have noticed the changes you've both made. Your loyalty is to each other first, and we must figure out how to change that."

"Of course my loyalty is to him, he's my husband—"

"_And I am your god_," Tom hissed, rounding on her. "And the sooner you two realize, the better off you'll both be." There was a silence as he backed away from her. "Take out your wands." They drew their wands slowly, nervously. "I want you to cast the Cruciatus."

"Let her," Rodolphus gasped. "I'll take it."

"She's not the one I'm concerned about, Rodolphus," Tom laughed. "See, in the deepest parts of both of you, there is a blackness; a darkness so pure that it consumes. But she's broken. Like all the beautiful things are. And that darkness rises through the faults. She can handle it.. but can you? You're damaged, son, but you're not broken."

Bella had, in the silence, taken a place a few feet away. Her eyes begged Rodolphus to understand, to do what he was told to do.

"Do it," Tom sneered.

"Or what?" he scowled.

"Rodolphus—" the girl protested.

"You both die."

A silence fell over the space. It was quiet for what seemed like ages, but finally he raised a shaky hand. "Crucio."

She flinched in anticipation but nothing happened. She felt no fire, no pain. She met his eyes, the look of confused defeat on his face. "You have to mean it," she said. "You have to feel the fury behind it or it's nothing."

"Listen to your bride, Rodolphus," Tom smirked, watching.

Again, after a long time, he raised his wand. Pulling from everything he could manage, he clenched his jaw. The curse fell from his lips again, and this time fire shot through her spine instantly. Her knees crashed against the ground, falling forward onto her hands. She wailed, the nails and shards of steel in her bloodstream becoming increasingly unbearable.

It began to ease, the pressure behind her eyes releasing. She sat up, her throat hoarse and her lungs sore. She ached all over, the pain radiating even still.

"Again," the voice hissed.

A second round of fire came over her, knocking her back onto the ground. Through another round of fire and hell she burned and cried. And when at least it ceased, she managed to get to her feet. Rodolphus' anger brewed when he saw her more clearly, dirty and defeated as she stood beside him.

"Don't make me regret my generosity," Tom nodded, delving into his pocket and pulling out a flask. He pulled up his hood again, raising the flask in the air. "To the new Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange." And with a crack he was gone.

By the time they'd made it back home, gotten cleaned up and settled in they were exhausted. Bella crawled into bed, deciding against dealing with the dress tonight. Rod slid in behind her, one arm going over her protectively.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck.

"Don't be," she shook her head, fingers trailing over his arm. "I'm proud of you."

"We'll make it work."

"We always do."

* * *

"He'd said it was to redefine loyalty," Bella shook her head, her voice frail. Ginny had been so engrossed she'd very nearly forgotten where she was. "But Tom tried his damnedest to make me hate Rodolphus. And if it meant hurting me, so be it."


	7. Chapter 7

_Kind of short, I apologize. Although, my finals are officially OVER! So I should be getting a little more writing done while I'm home on holiday - I hope. This chapter isn't so much development as it is insight, but hope that you'll enjoy it just the same. And as always, feedback is very appreciated! - **xoxo C** _

* * *

The next time Ginny returned to Azkaban, she had a new respect for Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd read and reread her notes tirelessly since their last visit, and she had discovered some things.

As a child and even into adulthood, Ginny had taken her freedom for granted. And not just her obvious legal freedom, but also her mental freedom. She often overlooked how lucky she was and that's because she'd never had anything to compare it to. She had never given much thought to the fact that she was allowed to marry whomever she chose, that her career and life were of her own choosing.

She had a good life, and even with all that had happened to her in her youth, she was very privileged.

"I was wondering, Mrs. Lestrange," Ginny began, their visits becoming much more relaxed now. They would talk for hours on end almost as if they were old friends.

"I have something to say before we begin," Bellatrix said. Her voice was different today, almost angry. "I've told you a lot, probably some things that I shouldn't. I've been very honest with you, Ginevra, and I hope that you appreciate it."

"Of course, I do, Mrs. Le-"

"Let me finish. I hope that you appreciate my honesty because I.." she pursed her lips, thoughts turning over in her mind. "I have decided that you should know more about my family."

"You've decided?" Ginny asked, failing to suppress the sarcastic 'hmph' that escaped her.

"Your sarcasm is unwelcome here, Mrs. Potter," Bella smirked under thick lashes and heavy lids. "Do you want your story or not?"

* * *

Growing up in the Black household could be viewed any number of ways, and depending on which daughter you asked, you might end up with a completely different idea of the home. Black Manor was a tall, intimidating fortress, built in the late 1800s by Phineas and Ursula Black. With it's grandiose open ballrooms and vaulted ceilings throughout, the house was a frozen sigil of what the pureblood aristocracy had been at its height.

Though the home had passed through three generations of Blacks, it showed little wear. It had been meticulously cared for and preserved by the house elves there, and the children, though some be wild at heart, were well behaved and respectful.

The house was, in a word, lavish. Each wall was papered in luxury, the carpets thick and the marble rare. The halls were lined with portraits of family long passed and each room boasted immense history in the form of priceless antiquities. It had large, grand rooms that were built, painted, and furnished with the sole purpose of entertaining - and they were not neglected.

Cygnus Black had a favorite daughter, and it was not a secret within the hallowed halls of the vast manor. Sweet Bellatrix could do no wrong in her father's eyes. With her mother it was a much different story, however. She was scolded often for her skirts being muddied or torn, her shoes bearing scuffs, hair tangled and mussed. She was never allowed to romp and play like she wanted for these things were wills of children, not a lady.

No, Druella much favored her little Narcissa, pristine little rose of the Black name in every semblance of the term. Narcissa was the youngest and she trailed close to her mothers skirt for most of her formative years, picking up her colloquial and mannerisms and reproducing them with poise and grace. Druella molded her as if she were made of clay and she was ever so proud of her little darling.

And that left Andromeda, as with most middle children it seems, an outlier in her own family. She tried being rambunctious to appease her father, she tried winning her mother with silence, knowledge, and posture. But she was neither witty like Bella nor gentle like Narcissa. She fell somewhere in the middle, and while that was fine in the grand scheme, it made her, well, ordinary. And the Blacks were not a kind to cling to the ordinary.

The daughters had their own hierarchy within the construct of the pureblood aristocracy. They looked to Bella for guidance, an idea that in and of itself seems utterly barbaric in hindsight. She was a leader, even back then. Andromeda traipsed along beside her, always trying to suggest something she thought might impress her big sister. Narcissa quietly protested, always certain that mother was going to be furious if she found out they'd been swimming in the river or climbing the trees at the edge of the property.

But the girls were loved and they wanted for nothing. Even Andy, who had a less than perfect childhood, was doted on plenty and had all the material blessings that good galleons could buy. But somehow it wasn't enough. All the girls wanted for more, more than the simple daily tasks of the pliable, governed housewife their mother had hoped that they'd each become.

Narcissa had wanted for stature. She just knew she would marry above her situation, would waltz her way into the heart and home of a family that was even more revered than her own. She wanted to throw grand galas that all the papers raved about and the uninvited would drool over the recollections of those who had attended. She would wear beautiful gowns each and every day, have a marvelous mansion with dozens of elves to appease her every whim. She would spoil herself so greatly and stand proudly behind a great man, in all probability, a candidate for future Minister.

Andromeda wished to be rid of it all. She wanted out, to escape this grand escapade that her entire family had seemed to embed itself in. She hated the parties her mother forced her to go to, dreaded the day her parents would finally put their foot down and force her into marriage. She wanted to run and run far. She wanted normal life that wasn't controlled by the 'mudblood situation' that her father's menacing visitors always spoke f in hushed tones as if the rest of the world wasn't well aware.

And none moreso aware, perhaps, than Bella. She had sat at her father's office door, eagerly absorbing talk of reformation and new beginnings. She had soon become so incredibly well-versed in the ins and outs of the coming war that she could carry on conversations at length with some of the visitors she managed to intercept. She was bright, young, and hungry for the fight. Everything that Tom Riddle was looking for in new recruits in that age.

But that's exactly what Bella wanted. Where her sisters wanted opposite ends of luxury and simplicity, she wanted both. Bella wanted to take what was hers with fire, claim what she needed and burn all the rest. She wanted to rule silently behind a man that would lead her when she could not help herself. A fighter that was willing to give it all, but still could give her loyal heart to her husband.

And the daughters three got their wishes.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Note:_ **_I know it's been over a month since I updated, and I'm truly sorry! I hope that this chapter can make up for it. I've got some ceative juices flowing again, so hopefully it won't bee too long before I can get another chapter posted for you all. Thank you so much for all the encouragement and enthusiasm. I am overjoyed! Feedback is always welcome and very much appreciated. xoxo C._

* * *

"My childhood was picturesque from the outside," Bellatrix said, her eyes wandering over Ginny's face. "We had everything we ever could have wanted. A wonderful home, dozens of lovely dresses - all hand made for my sisters and I; not another like it in all of England - suitors, and galas. We had it all, but it was-"

"It was never enough," Ginny interrupted. "It was never enough for you. Why was that?"

"You could call it ambition," she almost smiled. "But I never did. Ambition is different. It's good, pure, even if the thing you're lusting for may not be. The want is natural. No.. I was never satisfied, and I fear I have my dear father to blame for that." She nodded solemnly, letting the words settle in the dank air. "It's taken me a lifetime to admit that, but yes. I loved Cygnus dearly, my father was perhaps my favorite person on this earth. But he forced me to become a monster."

Ginny could have sworn that she felt the cold fall over the room with Bellatrix's confession. In all their meetings, she'd only had nice things to say about her father. She'd always spoken of how he made her stronger, better. To admit that he blamed her for this lifetime.. that was certainly something different.

"Mrs. Lestrange, why didn't you tell me this before?" her voice was soft but not timid. She was digging softly around the truth, hoping she could dislodge enough of the rough stone to finally gain something real. "About your father."

Something in her face changed at Ginny's words. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, hiding still behind a careful facade she'd spent the better part of her life sculpting. "He was everything to me growing up, and even after I'd moved out of his house. He still commanded me in many ways. He ruled with a gentle hand, forcing me to make his decisions but letting me think they were my own. I didn't true see it until after he had died. For the first time, I didn't know what to do. He wasn't there to steer me. I lost myself when I lost my father."

"But you had your husband, your sister. You still had them, right? You weren't lost. Not really," Ginny asked, prodding further with honest curiosity on her face. It was the curiosity and nothing else that fed Bella the strength to continue digging into her painful memories of losing her father.

"I was still quite young when he passed. I often blamed myself, even though I knew consciously that I had done nothing to cause his death." She paused, her breaths coming more slowly than they had been before, steadying herself with each fragile exhalation. "But you need to-" Bella bit her lip, her eyebrows furrowing. "I can't talk about this, not yet."

"It's okay," Ginny said, suddenly feeling quite guilty to digging too deep. She had noticed that in this assignment, she was finding it very easy to forget not only how troubled and painful Bellatrix's past was, but that she was talking with a living, breathing human being - who, despite the warrior she had been in her younger years, still had the ability to hurt just like anyone else.

She could feel remorse, could have regret, could long for a different life. And she wasn't just a book to be opened at leisure. She wasn't some scrapped project, forgotten by the Ministry and left to rot. She was one of the last remaining soldiers from a war that had claimed hundreds, and she'd gone from that battlefield headlong into another war - one that would claim the lives of nearly everyone she held dear.

That had been one of the most difficult things for Ginny to learn and understand: that Bellatrix Lestrange had people that she loved and cared for. That she had a family and sisters and parents that she cherished dearly. It was something she had never thought of simply because she had truthfully never considered the possibility that there could be anything but fire and venom in the hearts of the people that had fought so adamantly against Good. "We can talk about something else, if you'd like."

"Do you trust me, Ginevra?"

The question startled her, admittedly. They came from the perfectly poised lips suddenly and without warning. They sounded safe, urging her to accept whatever offer would surely follow them. But still the facts remained. Bellatrix Lestrange was a convicted murderer, an insane and rigid woman. Yet looking at the small woman sitting across the table from her - the dingy, government issued gown drowning her petite frame; face dull and hair streaked with grey; her cheekbones and elbow jutting out so much that they threatened to puncture the skin that held them in place. Despite her body and face seeming to show limited signs of life, her eyes still held their vibrant glow, a fire and a warmth that should have been impossible.

_'What's the worst that could happen?'_ she asked herself. Equal halves of her battled for dominance; one part convincing her that it was foolish to trust a criminal, the other fighting for her to hear the woman out. _'After all,'_ it sang, _'You can always leave.'_

The realization that she was free to terminate their sessions whenever she pleased was enough to convince the muscles poised around her mouth to utter the words. "Yes. I suppose that I do, Mrs. Lestrange."

A small smile formed on the empty face. It was not a smile of malice or satire. It was a genuine smile. It was joy, honest joy. She was glad that, even after her wicked youth, someone found good in her, enough good to be able to say that they trusted her. "I have a favor I must ask of you."

* * *

"No."

"Harry, please just lis-"

"I'm not going out there. And you're certainly not. Ginny, don't you see? She's trying to poison your mind! She wants you to do her bidding," Harry spat. In his mind a dozen thoughts raced, though the one that gained dominance was the most troubling. He remembered all too vividly the last time one of _them_ tried to get his Ginny to 'do them a favor'. It had nearly cost her her life.

"She just wants me to see if her ring is still there. That's all," Ginny sighed, taking the kettle from the stovetop and walking over to the table. She poured the water into their cups, letting the tea seep as she straightened the kitchen.

Harry sat down at the table, adding two spoons of sugar to his tea and stirring it. His eyes were clouded as he searched for some kind of truth in the bottom of his cup. She was his everything. It wasn't likely that Bellatrix could possibly even have the connections to set up an attack or an ambush, or that there was even truly anyone left that would be bothered enough to worry themselves with the task. But somehow, venturing into the countryside to an abandoned house didn't sit well with him. "I just don't think it's wise."

"Not even if you came along?" she asked, drying her hands on the dishtowel and sitting down across from him. "She told me where I could find it. If it's not there, we leave." Ginny added milk to her tea, stirring it without breaking her eyes from Harry's.

Harry studied her. She was anything but weak, and absolutely never had been. If this was something she felt strongly about, there must be some worth in it. She wouldn't blindly put her life in danger for no good reason. "Fine. But if it's not there, we leave."

Ginny grinned into her teacup.


End file.
